


my fate, my sweet

by starrynoctsky (lightinthehall)



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Boys In Love, Established Relationship, M/M, Marriage Proposal, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-30
Updated: 2019-07-30
Packaged: 2020-07-27 08:07:33
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,368
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20042680
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lightinthehall/pseuds/starrynoctsky
Summary: In which Ignis spends a rare day off hopelessly in love, and Noctis has a question for him.(for ignoctweek day 1: marriage proposals)





	my fate, my sweet

**Author's Note:**

> For day 1 of ignoctweek: marriage proposal  
Thank you as always, to Salt, for being my wonderful cheerleader and beta.

Ignis settles his violin within the coeurl-print, velour-lined case, the golden-chocolate finish of its Altissian wood gleaming in the studio light. His phone reads _8:31AM_ where he’s settled it upon the music stand. Mornings where he can indulge in a few pieces are a rare luxury these days. It feels good to greet the early day with music conjured from the bow and strings of his violin. He misses his time at the academy when he would practice regularly for competitions and recitals.

This room had been built then, he and Noctis had taken a weekend to convert Ignis’ impossibly tiny second bedroom into a practice studio. The other option had been moving to a new apartment, and though the crown had paid him well enough to afford larger, more private accommodations, he’d been reluctant to live any further away from Noctis or the Citadel.

It had been a lovely weekend. Noctis had quite sweetly insisted on ordering these high-end soundproof panels, swearing that popular online gamers used them for their recording rooms. Together they’d lined the walls and ceilings with the grey tiles, taking breaks to order sushi and take naps on Ignis’ sofa.

Afterwards, Noctis had excused himself, returning to the room with a shiny black case wrapped in gold ribbon. Inside had been a specially made violin ordered from Accordo, complete with a customized case. Coeurl-print. His favourite.

_Wanna test it out? _Noct had asked, all hopeful eyes, and shy, hesitant grin.

Ignis had gently taken the case from Noctis’ hands and placed it safely in the corner before pinning the prince against the door and crashing their lips together. They’d tested the room several times that night and save for a few of Noctis’ louder… _moments, _Ignis had considered it quite the success.

His smile quirks and his blood warms at the memory, and his chest aches, his stubborn heart calling for its other half, calling for Noctis to return so they could repeat the performance.

He sighs. Today is their fifth anniversary – five years since their nerve-wracking confessions under the stars. Instead of kissing his prince awake and indulging in a lazy morning in bed like Ignis had originally cleared their schedules for, the boy is spending the day with Prompto. Though Ignis feels entitled to his disappointment, he knows the timing can’t be helped. It would be Noctis and Prompto’s last day together for some time.

Newly graduated, the ever-cheerful blond has been offered a position within the Tenebraen-Imperial engineering team, assisting in the research and development of future magitek, now that the war is over. A magitek engine is scheduled to arrive tomorrow to pick him up. Ignis is not sure what excites Prompto more – the opportunity to work with advanced technology or the chance to meet Lady Lunafreya.

It had been Noctis’ idea for him to take the day off, to take a break without attending any meetings or worrying about him for once. It’s fine, Ignis knows he’s being ridiculous. But he misses Noct. Every day with him soothes Ignis’ heart, but lately, there’s been a different energy between them – the kisses are still passionate, their hands still wander. He’s never wanted to let Noctis go, but now… now it feels as if he doesn’t ever have to.

“Oh Scientia, could you be any more a fool in love?” he murmurs to himself. At least there is still this evening to look forward to, as Noctis has invited him to his apartment for dinner. For now, the day is his.

Metallic vibration fills the room, and Ignis plucks his phone off the music stand.

A message from Noctis. He swipes his thumb across the screen, and the texting app opens to a photo.

Prompto must be playing the photographer, because Noctis is in the picture looking casually handsome in his favourite Behemoth jacket and skinny black jeans. He takes up a good portion of the shot, hands in his pockets, and a soft, sleepy smile at the camera.

Despite Noct’s positioning, Ignis recognizes the area. The garden is a popular meet-up spot within Insomnia Park. Behind Noctis is the statue of The Wise, the first Lucian King to use the crystal’s power to raise the wall. From the photo, Ignis can see the statue’s armoured legs, and the lower wings that stretch from its back. An impressive landmark amongst the fiery red and orange of the flowers planted around it.

The title ‘_Will of the Wise_’ is carved into the circular stone base of the statue, Ignis knows it well, even though Noctis obscures all but the first word in the picture.

It had been where he and Noctis had met for their very first date.

Around the corner, hidden behind a hedge is a bench where he’d reached for a teenage Noctis’ hand and brought it to his lips to win a prince’s heart.

He types up a response:

_Up and about before noon? The day is full of wonders_.

And:

_Tell Prompto I said hello. See you at 7, love._

0-0-0

Ignis has his morning routine down to a perfect 20 minutes. His typical day requires him to be ready, presentable, and briefed at the Citadel by 7AM, so he doesn’t have much time to indulge in vanity. Shower, face, hair. Efficiency is key.

Today, he’s stepping out of the steamy shower stall just before 10AM. Patting himself dry, he wraps the towel around his waist and pads over to the bathroom mirror. Right side, then left, he spreads shaving cream over his jaw and neck, making quick work of the short stubble with his razor blade, leaving satisfyingly smooth skin. He wonders if Noctis will ever have to do the same, given the full beard His Majesty is known for.

He imagines seating Noctis on the bathroom counter, head tilted up, still and trusting with Ignis standing between his legs, as a steady hand slides the blade over the delicate skin of his throat.

Ignis shivers. Perhaps one day he will get that chance.

Stowing his shaving kit away, he moves on to his skin products. He’s taken careful care of his skin since he’d been an acne-prone teen. His bottles of toners, cleansers and moisturizers are lined neatly in order of usage upon his bathroom shelf, mirroring the arrangement of travel size bottles he’s set up in Noctis’ apartment. With small dabs on his hands, he pats product over his cheeks, nose, and forehead, rubbing slow circles into his skin, unrushed by the ticking clock.

When the Insomnian press had tired of running stories about Noctis taking the train like a regular citizen or posting scandalous stories about his ’_15 lovers!’_ amongst the glaive, they’d turned their flashing cameras and voice recorders to his retainers. Gladio had been the feature cover of the fitness magazines multiple times since he joined the crownsguard. Ignis passed on every reporter speculating on his relationship with the prince, and instead provided a short interview for a cooking article. And then, after some encouragement, acquiesced to a full spread photoshoot for the fashion-focused magazines.

_My boyfriend’s a model, _Noctis said, all awe and starstruck teasing in his voice. He’d personally gotten those covers framed and insisted on hanging them in Ignis’ office right next to his university degree.

Of course, there’d been outlets that were merely seeking to expose the royal family, and Noctis has had to chase the shadier reporters away from Prompto on several occasions.

He towels and blows his hair dry and reaches for the small jar of matte clay pomade upon the counter. Since he has no business at the Citadel, endless possibilities are at his fingertips. He warms the soft, waxy pomade between his palms, then combs his fingers through the dirty-blond strands, flicking the hair up in wild directions. He snorts. He looks like one of the fighter characters in the arcade games Noctis always challenges him to. Amusing, but decidedly not him. He flattens his hair and tries again, styling his bangs messily across his forehead instead.

Better.

_Stylish as always, _Noct would call out from bed during their mornings together, watching as Ignis rushed around to perform his daily ablutions.

There’s a rarely used case of contacts on the shelf, Ignis pauses but then passes over them, picking up his usual thin rectangular frame glasses. He doesn’t have to worry about them drying out or irritating his eyes. And he enjoys the look of them in Noctis’ hands, gently pulled off just before they share a kiss, or before Ignis gets pulled into bed.

He strides back through his bedroom and into his small walk-in closet. On one side are the crisp white shirts and black vests, and suits, along with his crownsguard uniforms. The two or three outfits covered in garment bags are reserved for formal crown events, and any royally sanctioned clothing is issued from the citadel’s tailors anyway.

The other side of his closet is undeniably more colourful, rich with reds, blues, greens, and purples he’s collected from various local boutiques. He flips through the shirts, sliding aside the puffy fishing vest Noctis had accidentally left in his apartment after their last fishing trip. Secretly, he hopes Noct has forgotten its existence, and Ignis will be spared being seen with it in public ever again. The uninhibited smiles on the prince’s face every opportunity he dons the unsightly vest _may_ make up for the fashion hazard… but only just.

He wants a slimming silhouette today, wants to draw Noct’s eye to his waist, shoulders, and arms, so he slips a dark green cardigan off its hanger, pairing it with a fitted casual button down covered in faded, silvery floral print. He slings tight grey chinos over his arm and grabs black boxer briefs and socks from the drawer.

His phone hums atop the vanity just as he’s pulled on his pants. Still shirtless, he crosses the room and taps the screen. Another message from Noctis.

This time, it’s a photo of a signpost: a white square with a bold, red ‘U’ in the centre. It’s one of the numerous signs for the Insomnian Underground train stations throughout the city. An odd choice, for certain, but Ignis can’t find it in him to be too concerned about that, not when Noctis is leaning against the pole, arms up behind his head, casually turned away from the camera. His shirt is rucked up, high enough to reveal a pale sliver of skin above the low waistband of his jeans. There’s a darkened mark above the jut of his hip bone, barely visible in the photograph, but Ignis is intimately aware how well his mouth fits over that patch of purpled skin. His arms are held aloft, wrapping behind the pole as if tied there, keeping himself on display for all to see.

Ignis’ hand tightens on his phone, tempted to send a shirtless selfie in retaliation.

_Tease, _he types instead, quietly saving the photo. _You’ll pay for that later, Highness_.

He finishes dressing himself, checking the mirror before returning to his dresser. In the centre of the bottles of cologne is a small display: a single, silver skull necklace sitting atop the black velvet. Last but not least. Carefully, he lifts the thin chain and settles it around his neck.

The familiar weight of the skull rests just over his collar. Whether he wears his standard citadel uniform or his more colourful casual outfits, the necklace has remained a constant since the day Noctis had, with gentle, shaking hands, shut the clasp behind Ignis’ neck.

Still flushed from Noct’s teasing, his hand brushes briefly over the bulge in his pants. His eyes flutter shut, visions of Noct’s bare skin prominently playing behind his closed eyelids. He shudders, feeling himself hardening. He can easily indulge today.

He reminds himself there is merit in waiting, however… Ignis breathes deeply, and forces his hand away.

His eyes slip open, gaze sliding to the small box hidden behind the velvet display. Black and secret and plaguing Ignis’ mind.

_Soon_.

0-0-0

Noctis is not one for grand, romantic gestures. Serenading him upon the balcony, or giant billboards professing love, would only make the prince balk under the attention (both have been tried by unlucky suitors). A small compliment, a surprise kiss on the forehead, is all Ignis needs to turn Noct into a flustered mess.

Can of Ebony in hand, Ignis studies the fish through the display the small fish market he favoured for their quality of ingredients. He’d thought perhaps they could make dinner together tonight. Noctis had learned to make sushi for his part-time job at the restaurant, and Ignis had learned in tandem, secretly, in case Noctis required his assistance at work. What good is he, after all, if he did not hold all the answers? It’d been a true fear of his for a long time. Noctis had relieved him of that sentiment a few years ago, but every once in a while, there’s still that lingering pressure within his mind, pushing him to be infallible and irreplaceable.

In the end, it hadn’t been necessary, but the skill still proved useful in preparing the fish Noctis would catch. It’s one of the only foods Noctis is enthusiastic about preparing. They could work at Noctis’ kitchen counter, elbows rubbing as they go, with their rice-covered hands and the scent of vinegar and soy sauce in the air.

Perhaps Ignis could sneak the small box in amongst the hand-shaped nigiri and slices of fish.

Obtaining His Majesty’s permission had been a fearsome prospect. Far from being the heir to the Scientia name, Ignis doesn’t stand to inherit his family’s estate, and in the end, his family name is only of lower nobility. Not that Noctis cared about these things, but as King, Regis would have to take everything into consideration.

Regis had peered down at him from the throne as Ignis stated his intentions. The King then stood, beginning the long, slow descent down the stairs. Ignis kept stock-still, standing at respectful attention as Regis slowly approached and finally stopped in front of him, expression serious. Ignis’ heart leapt when Regis had placed a fatherly hand upon his shoulder.

“Ignis, my son first saw you when he was five, and he hasn’t looked away since.”

“Nor have I, your Majesty. If I would see nothing else in this world but Noctis, I would be content.”

Regis had just smiled like he’d always known, all along, and given his blessing.

The council will be much more difficult to win over, but they have no authority to overrule Regis. And with Noct’s acceptance…

_Noct_… Ignis places the salmon into the basket, selecting a few cuts of the pricier bluefin tuna aswell. It’s silly to be nervous, he tells himself. It’s not that Ignis has reason to doubt Noctis’ affection for him, but there would be trouble for them, for _Noctis, _in the future if they are to pursue this. The old men and women of the council will not agree to a marriage to a lowly male advisor without protest, not to mention there’s the crown citizen’s opinions to consider, and foreign nations to appease.

Does he have the will to add to Noctis’ burden? To have everyone question Noctis’ sense of duty and integrity – to think less of him for choosing an unworthy partner?

The questions weigh heavily within Ignis’ chest, and he gives distracted responses to the cashier’s inquiries as he pays, transferring the fish into the mini-cooler the grocer kindly provides him.

His pocket vibrates just as he steps through the automatic doors. Transferring the cooler to his other arm, he finds his phone.

It’s another photo from Noctis.

All that’s visible is Noct’s hand holding up a white rectangular box, generic but easily recognizable to Ignis, as they’ve ordered it as a treat countless times before. The plastic window of the cake cover extends halfway down the side, allowing the fluffy chiffon cake inside to be visible. He spots the delicate tufts of white icing and the red slices of strawberry arranged on top. He can even see the chocolate-kupoberry drizzle.

It’s Ignis’ favourite.

Their go-to shop is the simply named _Market & Bakery _in Central Insomnia, which had been opened by a retired citadel chef, well-acquainted with both Ignis and the prince from their time sneaking snacks from the royal kitchens.

In fact, Ignis can see some of the large, bold letters of the shop’s banner behind the cake, the iconic blue of _‘Mar’ _followed by the _‘ry_’ peeking out from the other side of the white box.

He blinks.

Shaking his head, he taps out his response. _A fine choice. That will go well with dinner. Just a few more hours, dear heart._

Such a simple gesture, and he walks lighter, his mind quiet, his heart full. This feeling. This is what he stands to lose if he lets Noctis slip away.

He thinks of Noct: his icy, midnight blue eyes that cannot conceal the deeply kind soul within, his smile brighter and more precious than the dawn, and the boy who showed Ignis what it means to be loved, to be happy.

He imagines a sleepy husband lured out of bed with sweet kisses in the morning, a ring during the day, tangible and eternal, marking him as half of a whole, and the nights, lavishing each other with attention, drowning in pleasured gasps.

Any naysayers can burn in the Infernian’s abyss. Ignis would fight them all, and more, to stay at Noctis’ side.

0-0-0

Ignis presses low against the mat, arms bent, shaking from supporting his weight. He concentrates on his lower half, the strain in his hips and thighs as he kicks his legs up, lifting them higher until they curve above his upper body.

He holds that pose for a few, long seconds, losing himself in the focus and stretch of his muscles. Sweat trails from his nape, soaking into the crownsguard-issued tank top he wears in the training rooms. He’ll have to shower again, before meeting Noctis.

Slowly unfolding himself from the reapertail pose, he allows his limbs to relax, lowering them to the mat.

The room is quiet, the setting sun casting orange light through the high windows of the training hall. Ignis does his best thinking here. If there’s a problem to solve, a frustrating meeting to work off, an upcoming proposal…

His heartrate quickens, and Ignis catches himself with slow, deep breaths. He pulls into a simpler pose, stretching his legs out on either side of him, and lowering his torso until his chest meets the mat. It’s unconventional for an advisor to be trained amongst the crownsguard, and even stranger for his chosen field to be gymnastics.

He’d started out as a lanky teen, slowly building muscle through basic training and then switching his specialty to focus on flexibility, core strength, and agility. The prince’s Shield would take care of defeating enemies with brutal strength and powerful hits. Ignis’ daggers may not deliver the heaviest blows, but he can aim with deadly accuracy, and deliver multiple attacks in quick succession to subdue his foes. He may not be able to warp to Noctis’ aid in battle, but he can certainly navigate through a battlefield with ease, dodging advances, and somersaulting over opponents.

He’s quite proud of his progress – proud he can defend Noctis both in the battlefield and the meeting rooms.

His whole life, he’s been carving himself a place at Noctis’ side. And if Noctis would do him the honour tonight, he can finally claim that spot as his, officially and irrevocably.

“Shouldn’t you be with His Highness?”

Ignis sits up, glaring balefully up at the intruder disturbing the peaceful quiet. “We’ve agreed to meet in an hour or so.”

Gladio nods absently. In his leather jacket and jeans, Gladio’s not dressed for training at all, giving Ignis a sneaking suspicion he’s been tracked down.

“Did Noctis tell you to find me?”

“What – that’s not - no, come on man, I work here too,” Gladio says with overly-heavy incredulity, even crossing his arms his chest. Ignis raises a brow at Gladiolus’ rather unconvincing display.

Gladio glares at him right back, before his mouth falls open. “Wait. You don’t _know_.”

“Know what, exactly?” Ignis asks sharply. He slings a towel over his neck and stands, wandering over to the bench with his gym bag.

“Holy Shiva – I told him you’d figure it out from the get-go. Even blondie thought it’d be too obvious,” Gladio says, following him and running a heavy hand through his long dark hair.

“Ignis. This is _embarrassing_,” the Shield continues, much too gleefully. “Ok listen, the kid’s probably called dibs on Prompto, but I know you won’t let me down. Right? You won’t leave me out.”

“I could leave you out to hang from the rafters for the recruits to find in the morning if you don’t tell me what’s going on,” Ignis says, roughly tugging his bag’s zipper closed.

“I’m out – but remember, you’re calling me first.” Gladio shakes his head with that same irritating air of smugness. He turns to leave, hands on the door before he looks over his shoulder to nod at the phone lying on the bench. “By the way? You’ve got a text.”

The shield disappears through the doors, just as Ignis notices the blinking phone. He swipes it up, revealing Noctis’ message.

The prince is completely missing from the shot this time. Centred in the photograph is the dining table where he and Noctis share their meals and go over reports, backlit by the evening sunset shining through Noctis’ apartment windows.

Upon that table, is the white cake box, anchoring a golden, floating balloon shaped in the letters ‘M’ and ‘E’.

_Oh._

Ignis inhales sharply, heart pounding as he pulls up each of the photos he’d received today. He covers his mouth with a shaking hand. Gladio’s mockery had been well-deserved after all. He… how had he not noticed?

He grabs his bag and shoulders his way through the door, breaking into a run. He needs to get to Noctis’ apartment. Immediately.

0-0-0

Ignis arrives at Noctis’ door and knocks twice.

“Noct?”

The apartment remains quiet. He passes his key card over the lock, slowly opening the door. Placing the cooler down next to his shoes, Ignis strides past the entryway. The air in the apartment is cool upon the wet hair curled on his nape. He’d rushed a shower and sped his car the several blocks to Noct’s apartment from the Citadel.

The sun’s barely a sliver over the horizon, and the apartment is darker now than the photo had been. Ignis turns to find the table arranged exactly as it had been in the photograph – white box with a thin ribbon leading to the ‘ME’ balloon. With one addition.

A small, black box sitting at the edge of the table.

With trembling hands, he reaches for it. The box feels light upon his palm, too light for something so life-altering. There’s a note attached to the lid: the finishing touch to the question, a scrawled “?” in red marker.

He flips the lid open. The dying light of the sun catches on the obsidian-coloured ring nestled inside. There is no gem, just smooth black metal surrounding a textured, silvery band inlaid between two bands of black. Ignis’ breath catches painfully in his throat at the inscription on the inside of the ring.

_My fate, my sweet._

“Took you long enough, Specs.”

Ignis whirls around, clutching the ring tightly within his palm.

“Noct!”

Noctis switches the lights on, and Ignis is presented with the sight of his smile, mischievous, and endearingly anxious. He’s wearing his grey pinstripe waistcoat overtop a black dress shirt, and perfectly fitted pants. His black hair is styled down, swept elegantly to one side instead of their usual spikes.

For once, Ignis is the one feeling underdressed.

“The texts! I can’t believe you –” Ignis starts, eyes stinging when Noctis gently takes his enclosed fist within both hands, lifting it to his lips to press a kiss over his knuckles. Long eyelashes flutter before deep blue eyes bravely meet his, windows to a thoughtful and loving soul and everything that Ignis has ever wanted from this world.

“It’s a titanium band,” Noctis explains, cradling Ignis’ hand allowing it to open to reveal the ring sitting on his palm. “It symbolizes an unbreakable bond… The centre is made from refined meteorshards – your very own piece of the night sky.”

“It’s beautiful,” Ignis whispers, fingers meeting Noct’s own as they graze over the ring. He tilts Noctis’ face towards his, resting their foreheads together before stealing the prince’s lips for his own. He wraps his arms around Noctis’ small waist, pressing him close and loving the feel of the firm body against his. Noctis trembles within his arms, almost slipping within his grasp as the prince’s knees weaken under the onslaught of Ignis’ mouth. With every push of eager lips, with every caress of his tongue he tries to return every ounce of happiness and love that Noctis inspires within him daily.

“Ignis Scientia,” Noctis says, voice rough with emotion when he breaks the kiss. The prince speaks with slow deliberation, as if pulling each word directly from his heart. He holds the ring aloft. “Iggy. Specs. You’ve been by my side since we were children. I’m selfish enough to ask you for the rest of our days, the remainder of forever. And every day after that.”

Ignis chokes down a sob then, eyes squeezing shut for just a moment, causing more tears to slide down his cheeks. He’s speechless. This is not at all how he imagined tonight would go. No… it’s better. Noctis always manages to surpass his expectations.

“I’m afraid I – no, Noct, wait –” Ignis stifles a tearful chuckle at Noct’s stricken face. He soothes it with a small caress of his cheek. “…I’m afraid I have a selfish request of my own.”

He drops to one knee, hand slipping into his back pocket to reveal another velvet black box.

“Noctis Lucis Caelum, will you marry me?”

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading!
> 
> **Writer's notes:**  
1)“**Will** of the Wise”  
“**U**”  
“**Mar**ket & Bake**ry**”  
“**M**” and “**E**”  
“**?**”  
I honestly did worry that maybe Ignis would have figured it out right from the first message, but also I thought he’d never suspect it, because he’s not the type to think of himself that way. It took him so long to believe he deserved to be at Noctis’ side. He’d never see it coming.  
  
2) If it seems Regis may have given his assent too easily, it’s because Noctis had already asked him for permission haha  
  
3) ‘my fate, my sweet’ from the poem I carry your heart with me (I carry it in my heart) by E.E. Cummings. The paired line (Ignis to Noctis) would be ‘my world, my true’ and that’s exactly what it would say on ignoct’s wedding rings ok?  

> 
> **Twitter**: @starrynoctsky


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